A Villain's Last Resort
by HaloFin17
Summary: In which a collection of our favorite villains need a little escape of their own to help them forget about life for a while. The large majority, if not all of them, will be well recognized by most readers. Posted on behalf of my sister, the true author. Enjoy!


**Summary: **In which a collection of our favorite villains need a little escape of their own to help them forget about life for a while. The large majority, if not all of them, will be well recognized by most readers. Major crossover. Posted on behalf of my sister, the true author. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **All villains belong to their respective studios, publishers, etc.

**Author's Note: **My sister **Hannah **actually wrote this story, with a little help from yours truly, in celebration of our friend **Sushi's **21st birthday. It is my special privilege to share it with you all on her behalf. Enjoy!

**A Villain's Last Resort**

"Ah, yes, it's good to be back! No mutinous crew trying to maroon you."

"No more errands chasing after little people."

"No long-lost relations trying to lure you back to the Light Side."

"No smart-ass trio of kids thwarting your plans for world domination."

"No pesky house-cat trying to bring back spring."

"No former colleagues infringing on your exclusive rights to the biggest treasure find in history."

"No grey-bearded subordinates trying to usurp your place as head of the order."

"No handsy big brothers preaching to you about the good old days."

"Not even Mr. Anderson could ruin this vacation."

A chorus of champagne flutes clinked together as an official celebratory toast was made.

"And now let us also take a moment," solemnly spoke Saruman the White, "to remember those who could only be with us in spirit, whether by their own choice or no."

"Suck-up!" one of the Nazgul not-so-discreetly coughed from behind him. The Wizard, of course, was referring to Sauron (his own new master) and Darth Sidious, although the wishes of both Dark Lords would doubtless be made known by way of their respective representatives.

Glasses were raised again, though with considerably less enthusiasm.

Lucius offered his support to Saruman's sentiments. "I'm sure both the Emperor and Lord Sauron send their regrets."

"Regrets?" Captain Barbossa scoffed. "They have no regrets. They're just too high and mighty to join the rest of us mere mortals."

"I beg your pardon, but some of us here are in fact immortal." The cool new voice belonged to Loki Laufeyson, who then threw a look of contemptuous disapproval at Voldemort. "While some _others _among us are still working fruitlessly toward that goal. Tell me, O powerful Dark Lord, exactly how many of your schemes have been undermined by a mob of gangly adolescents?"

The slits of Voldemort's nostrils flared, and his red eyes glowed dangerously; but Lucius jumped in immediately to defend the reputation of his master.

"The Dark Lord is not answerable to you for his…failures."

"Malfoy, do me a favor and never speak on my behalf again. Otherwise, I shall tell Narcissa you lied to her in order to join me here at the resort."

Lucius was duly shamed into silence, but Loki chuckled softly, seeing how Voldemort's anger had been directed away from himself.

"Indeed," the dark wizard mused. "It makes me wonder why I didn't follow the example of my more distinguished colleagues and simply send you here in my stead."

Lucius' reply was immediate. "Because you know they give the best pedicures at the spa here, and it would simply have been unwise to ignore this perfect opportunity, now that you're walking barefoot most of the time."

Voldemort made no argument to that comment, though he might have reduced Malfoy to a wriggling worm for such insolence on one of his worse days. This was, after all, a most peaceful setting here at the Last Resort. Cool moonlight streamed in through the French windows, reflecting in the swimming pool just outside and sparkling in the high-strung crystal chandeliers. A commemorative portrait of the Resort's founder, Morgoth Bauglir, hung in a place of great honor above the main lounge's massive fireplace.

"Speaking of absentees," observed Agent Smith, "didn't you have one more subordinate in your little posse last time, Mr. Howe?"

"Phil's here," Ian answered. "He's just back in the kitchen trying to fix the toaster that was…acting up."

Smith raised one eyebrow above his sunglasses. "Acting up? It expelled its contents at such a high velocity that it nearly took off Barbossa's hat – hence the _immediate _need for repairs. But at any rate, I was referring to your favorite henchman who supposedly fell hundreds of feet to an untimely end."

The blonde Englishman glanced overtly to his right where Shaw was standing with his arms crossed in front of him, a scowl etched onto his face. "We don't talk about that."

Powell quickly sensed that it was time to change the subject. "Hey, Barbossa, where's Jack the Monkey?"

"Ah, Master Powell," drawled the _Black Pearl_'s one-time captain, "as ye may recall, we've a strict No Pets policy here at the Last Resort."

"And it is a shame, really," lamented Loki. "I had hoped to bring Thor in for Show and Tell…but at any rate, where's the new guy? Too intimidated to officially join his superiors?"

"Khan is unable to join us this evening," Saruman explained. "Unfortunately, Star Fleet caught up with him about a week ago."

"Yeah, and now they're keeping him on ice!" The Nazguls' shrill laughter ran throughout the assemblage.

"Indeed, that does seem a waste," sighed the God of Mischief, shaking his head. "To think that we had only just initiated him, and then he goes and gets himself captured. So much for Khan Noonien Singh. Now he's even less worthy to be here than Howe's band of misfits."

"Hey, we have more decorum than certain _others_ around here; at least we arrived on time," Shaw retorted, still sore that it had taken this long for someone to notice he wasn't actually dead.

Darth Vader might have sighed through his mask, though it was very difficult to tell. "I have already apologized for my tardiness; as I explained before, I had to stop to buy the Emperor more wrinkle cream."

"And perhaps some more helmet polish for yourself?" Smith suggested innocently.

"In my opinion, the Emperor is beyond the help of any anti-aging product." The White Witch of Narnia withdrew a small mirror from her fur purse and proceeded to admire her own smooth, silky whiteness. "It's a pity he never really had flawless skin like I have."

Ian snickered at that. "Then you'd better pray for a miraculous disfiguration, because apparently that's the only way to reach the top in this profession."

"Just look at Sauron," Shaw readily concurred. "He got reduced to a flaming orange eyeball just because some pathetic mortal cut off his finger; and as for the Emperor, well, let's face it – he's falling apart."

"So in other words, Vader and Voldemort are the only ones here with a hope of making it big." Barbossa turned to address the latter. "By the way, did you actually _intend _for your nose to come out that way? By the Locker, man, you gave yourself an entirely new body! Was that really the best you could do?"

Once again, an indignant Lucius was on his feet, wand in hand. "How dare you speak to the Dark Lord in that manner, you…you pirate!"

"Lucius, sit down!" Voldemort snapped. Even on vacation, his temper was perilously short. "But as a matter of fact, Captain, this face which you see before you strikes terror into the hearts of thousands – unlike your own."

"Thousands, really. Is that all?"

"And what about us?" shrieked the unmistakable voice of a Nazgul. Further inspection proved it was the Witch King himself who had interjected. "_We _are the ones who strike terror into the hearts of every living creature – even insects! We are the scariest and most disfigured of you all, and we deserve to be next in line as the supreme evil overlords!"

Naturally, Saruman was quick to rebuke him. "You had better hope my master hears nothing of these remarks. Remember, you are still his servants also."

It was wishful thinking, though, for at once the ground started to shake and rumble ominously. As the quake intensified, the buffet tables began to cast their assorted delicacies onto the floor. Viktor rushed to save the Turkish delight from this terrible fate, while Powell and Barbossa darted instead toward the liquor cabinet with respective cries to "save the scotch!" and "save the rum!"

"See what you've done!" admonished the White Wizard. "Witch King, apologize and grovel this instant!"

The Lord of the Nazgul would have rolled his eyes, if he'd had any. "All right, all right, I'm sorry. You happy already? Don't hold a grudge."

The shaking stopped as suddenly as it had begun; but when Saruman's back was turned, the Witch King grumbled under his breath, "Then again, my Lord Sauron _has _held a grudge over that stupid Ring for Eru only knows how long."

"Although," Shaw mused, continuing their previous conversation, "maybe disfigurement isn't the only key to success in our industry. Eccentric fashion seems to play just as big a role, if you ask me. I mean, just take a look at Loki's crazy helmet or Smith's sunglasses. Seriously, why do you always wear those, even when all our meetings are at night?"

"Well, now, that's a very simple answer," Agent Smith easily replied. "I keep my sunglasses with me at all times because they are the epitome of all that's cool in the universe. Why else do you think the Blues Brothers wear them?"

"At least you can take off your sunglasses," Vader moped. "I've been stuck in this blasted helmet for twenty years!"

"Who cares about a couple of decades?" scoffed Khamul, second in command over the Nine. "We've been underlings for more than four thousand years, so I don't want to hear anyone else complain about the longevity of their suffering!"

Loki jumped in next. "And although my helmet may be outlandish, at least it doesn't make an obnoxious suction noise when I put it on the way some do."

Even with the mask looking as impervious as ever, it was obvious Darth Vader was glaring at a certain Norse god. "Why, oh why, can't I throw lighting when I need it most?"

"You know perfectly well the reason why," Voldemort admonished his colleague. "It's hazardous to your health."

"Yeah, you'll blow a circuit or something," contributed Powell.

"I very nearly 'blew a circuit', as you call it, just the other day. I instructed one of my aides to iron my cape before I went to see the Emperor, and that ignorant fool attempted to iron the thing while I was still wearing it! So do you know what I did?"

"Let me guess," Saruman drawled, "you choked him."

"That's right, I choked him – with the Force!"

"Uh huh," said an entirely unenthused Smith.

"You should have heard him," Vader went on feverishly. "He was gasping and gurgling…"

Ian rolled his eyes. "Of course he was."

"…and clawing at the hand that wasn't there. It was fabulous! Gives one a real sense of accomplishment, don't you think?"

"We know, we get it," sighed the White Witch. "You killed the offender just like you always do."

"Yes, indeed I did. Then I replaced him, also like I always do, and this young cadet actually looks quite promising."

Barbossa paled just a smidge. "Oh that poor bastard!"

"But truly, Lord Vader, why _are _you even here with us tonight?" pressed the man who had once been Tom Riddle. "You cannot drink the champagne, you cannot get a massage, and you certainly cannot make use of our first-class swimming pool."

Vader's respirator hissed angrily. "You don't know the power of the Dark Side; I _must _represent my Master! Besides, he is currently upset with me because I forgot to fill up the Death Star with petrol the last time I took it for a spin."

"Personally, I don't see why you or anyone else for that matter are so deathly afraid of the Emperor. He's just a mortal old man, after all."

"I'm sorry, Agent Smith, but my master Darth Sidious, no matter how frail he may seem, would blast you into oblivion before you could say 'Mr. Anderson'!"

"Ah, but I live in the Matrix. He can't touch me there."

"That's just it," Ian contended. "You exist in a computer program. A technical genius like Phil could delete you with one keystroke."

"Phil can't even fix a toaster," scoffed the White Witch with a toss of her head.

"The Emperor has the Force, and the Force can influence any dimension," argued the Sith Lord.

"Not Asgard," spoke the only Villain who had ever been to Asgard.

"_Especially_ Asgard." By now, Vader was practically pouting.

"Not that it matters, of course," continued the Trickster. "Asgard isn't really my home anyway, so why should I care if Darth Sidious or anyone else decides to wipe it off the face of Yggdrasil? But I'm afraid I must throw my lot in with Agent Smith and agree that I personally do not care much for our esteemed Emperor."

"Why, that there is nothing short of blasphemy," contended Barbossa. "The Emperor is brilliant, a role model for all aspiring villains."

"Let's just say that I am not overly fond of his primary attack method."

Shaw chuckled darkly. "What's wrong, you afraid of a little lightning?"

"Ha!" the Captain concurred. "Some lily-livered villain you are; you wouldn't last a week on the open sea!"

"How dare you." Loki's voice was dangerous and low. "I am a god, you insolent peasant! I am Loki. You are not even worthy of your membership here at the Resort – you and this other band of inane hooligans."

"Hey!" The first word to be heard out of Viktor's mouth all night was muffled by a cream puff.

"You'd better retract that statement, _friend,_" Ian warned. "You may be a god, but I'm not about to back down from anyone who insults my men."

Just as the wealthy Englishman finished speaking, Shaw drew out his gun and leveled it at Loki's head. The god only laughed.

"Do you really believe that will work? That something so very primitive and vulgar could kill me?"

The tension in the room was palpable until, finally, Lucius stood and intervened, hands raised. "Now just calm down, everyone. You all know the rules: no killing on Resort grounds."

"Is there a rule against fighting?" Loki countered.

"Well, umm, no."

"Then leave us be!"

"Don't worry, Loki my love! I'll be right there with you to do battle by your side." The White Witch promptly glued herself to his side before he could protest. "After all, the magic of Ice and Winter has no equal here! Surely you will agree with me?"

She then batted her pale eyelashes up at the reluctant Jotun, who only glared emerald daggers back at her in return and hissed, "I have no idea what you're talking about, woman, and I certainly don't need your pathetic brand of witchcraft to defend me!"

"Good Lord, will this never end?" Ian whispered confidentially to his right-hand man. "Everyone knows she only wants him for his Casket."

Shaw simply nodded in response and rolled his eyes, watching along with the rest of them as Loki pushed aside his own personal parasite and teleported across the room to stand beside Saruman's La-Z-Boy recliner – conveniently as far away from the fireplace as possible.

"Must you always make trouble wherever you go?" chided the wizard when he passed, clearly sounding as though he were dealing with a petulant child.

Loki grinned his trademark Trickster grin and shrugged. "God of Mischief." As though that explained everything – which, in a way, it did.

Meanwhile, the spurned Witch of Narnia was doing her best to save face in the midst of her peers and had redirected her cold eyes to the pirate captain.

"Why do you wear such a large hat?" she critiqued.

"Why do you wear icicles on your head?" came Barbossa's instant retort. He then leaned forward suddenly, his weathered face drawn in faux concern. "By the way, are they getting smaller?"

"No! It can't be!" Her sorceress hands flew up to grope at the pride of her wintry crown, but those efforts were stilled at once by Barbossa's uproarious laughter.

"Fooled you!" shouted the old pirate, while several other observers joined in with a snicker.

The White Witch's usual pallor flushed with anger and shame. "You want a joke, Captain? I'll show you a joke!"

With one smooth motion she whipped out her wand and brandished it menacingly at her antagonist; but before she could cast her spell, there was a loud crack, and a ripple passed through the floor to upset her footing. At the end of his patience at last, Saruman had stood and struck his own magical staff against the ground, simultaneously thwarting the potential conflict and capturing everyone's undivided attention.

"Now that is enough, from everyone!" he scolded sternly. "Remember, all of you, that we have enemies enough without fighting against each other as well. We are supposed to be enjoying ourselves here and forgetting, for a while, the troubles of the outside world."

Barbossa rose from his own seat with deliberate purpose. "You know what, Wizard…you have a magnificent beard! And I suppose you do have a point there, as well."

Now that serenity was starting to settle once again over their gathering, Lucius strolled up to peruse the buffet tables when he suddenly bumped into something solid; the only problem was that he wasn't anywhere near the actual table.

"Predator?" he called, narrowing his eyes. "Predator, is that you? Show yourself, you coward!"

Immediately, the large alien materialized out of thin air in front of Lucius.

"I thought I told you never to use that damn camouflage in the Resort," the wizard chided him. "The last time you performed that little stunt, you hid in the ladies' restroom and got caught by the White Witch. It took the Dark Lord and I forever to find a counter-curse for her magic! It stems from a different source, you know."

Predator hung his head in shame, but the silence was not unbroken for long.

"Yes, yes, I remember that day," spoke the smooth voice of the god of lies as he slid up behind to join in their conversation. "It took them almost as long to unfreeze you as it will take that mortal Phil to fix the toaster I tampered with."

Predator then cocked his head to one side as he silently gauged his friend, expressing without words his surprise and subtle approval. Loki only raised a solitary finger to his lips, smiling wickedly all the while. No doubt the small appliance had been the sad recipient of his wrath because Pop Tarts reminded him of a certain blonde someone.

"Oh, that's the man's name, is it? Phil?" Lucius looked pensive. "He never says much of anything, yet he does seem useful to have around. Perhaps I ought to hire a henchman with an intimate understanding of modern Muggle technology…But at any rate, I really should find my lord. I believe he went off to get a manicure, and I need to make sure they don't give him those French tips again."

He cast one last wary glance at Predator and said to Loki, "Keep an eye on him, will you? He's a slippery one."

Once Lucius' blonde head was out of sight, Loki placed a comforting hand on the alien's shoulder.

"Don't let him get to you. For what it's worth, I would take one of you over a thousand Chitauri."

The extraterrestrial hunter seemed to brighten a bit at that, much to the Trickster's satisfaction. Naturally, Loki was always eager to encourage a fellow mischief-maker. But by the time he turned his attention back to the others, their conversation had drifted into an entirely different topic. The Witch King had apparently taken control of the situation, and was verbally reminiscing about his past.

"Ever since I left Maleficent…"

"I thought she dumped you?" Khamul inadvertently blurted.

The leader of the Nazgul instantly drew his Morgul blade from his robes. "Silence – I _kill_ you!"

"But I'm already undead," the other Black Rider reminded him, seemingly unfazed.

"Being undead isn't all it's cracked up to be," Barbossa mused as he took a bite from his apple.

"You're just upset because the Nazgul wouldn't let you into their clique," said Agent Smith with a sly smirk. The pirate captain continued with his apple, pretending not to have heard that last remark.

"As I was saying," the Witch King loudly proclaimed, obviously determined to have full reign over the conversation once again, "since Maleficent and I broke up, I simply haven't had the time to undo all of her decorating in Minas Morgul. You've never seen so many gargoyles and stone dragons. I tell you, that woman has influence, and she leaves her mark everywhere she goes – there's no escaping her! Don't ever get involved with villainesses, gentlemen; they are such a trial."

The White Witch, who was passing by, overheard this final statement but merely raised a curious eyebrow. Punishing the Witch King was not worth the effort, in her opinion. She'd leave that to Lord Sauron.

"So, Lucius," the Nazgul leader proceeded, not knowing of the imminent danger he had unwittingly escaped. "Did your wife allow you to assist in the décor of your home?"

"Of course, you idiot!" replied an obviously offended Lucius. "I am the master of my house, and I make the decisions."

"Excuse me, Lucius," Lord Voldemort suddenly interrupted, "but I can well recall the time you came to me complaining about how Narcissa had banished you from the mansion, insisting she do the refurbishing on her own."

Lucius blinked incredulously.

"Did I?" he added with a weak smile.

"Didn't you?"

"Oh man, you are so whipped!" guffawed Powell in his Scottish drawl. Malfoy, meanwhile, was opening and closing his mouth as if to say something, but no words came. The Witch King placed a sympathetic, skeletal arm around Lucius' shoulders.

"Women, eh?" he empathized. "It's all a trap, and best to avoid them altogether. You single men heed my word – stay free!"

As if on cue, Phil McGregor, arguably one of the better looking bachelors at the resort, entered the room with an announcement.

"Well, the toaster's finally fixed," he declared, all the while glaring at the God of Mischief who stumbled back in mock surprise when he saw him.

"My word – it spoke!" Loki exclaimed in awe.

Amidst the awkward silence that followed, Barbossa finished his apple with relish. "What better way to kick off a vacation?"

**THE END**


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